


Pygmalion's Disciple

by ItsJustaDressDummy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, Asanoya Week 2020, Bottom Azumane Asahi, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Obsessive Behavior, Sexual Fantasy, Top Nishinoya Yuu, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26631349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJustaDressDummy/pseuds/ItsJustaDressDummy
Summary: It was like being haunted by a fucking specter. Noya'd pick up a pencil, and there he would be. Lines of graphite on paper, shaping a guy plucking flowers or pruning some carnations. The same guy, every time. A total stranger, but out he'd pop like a very boring Kinder Surprise.Noya wasn't sure what kind of compulsion this was supposed to be, but at least the guy was hot.-Written for AsaNoya Week 2020 for the prompt "tattoo parlor/flower shop".
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132
Collections: Asanoya Week 2020





	Pygmalion's Disciple

The needle stopped buzzing, and the girl pressed the breath she was holding out of her nose.

Noya smiled at her. She was doing quite well for her first one. „I’ll pack on a little bit more color, and then you’re all done,“ he said, reaching for the pre-mixed shade of teal.

She nodded. 

„And then a little bit of highlights,“ he added.

She groaned.

„Awwh, come on,“ he wheedled, „You promised I could try out that new white I got!“

„I would have reconsidered if I’d have known how much it hurts to color over shit that you already tattooed,“ she hissed.

It was forever amusing how his customers got snarky at him for putting them through the pain they’d asked for. Better distract her before she swore up a storm.

Noya grinned at her. „So what was that about your colleague being a boyfriend stealing bitch?“

The technique worked. Instead of gasping and huffing her way through the color gradients and highlights, she trash talked her man-eating colleague. Noya nodded, asked questions where it was appropriate, and 15 minutes later she was done.

„Ta-da!“ he exclaimed after wiping the tat down with his super secret cleaning solution. She bent sideways, looked at her flank blearily. Noya only got a reaction once she pushed herself up and saw her new body mod in the mirror.

The smile on her face was tired, but brilliant. „It looks so awesome, Nishinoya-San,“ she said.

Noya actually agreed. After almost ten years of this, he’d become pretty good at it. The small bouquet of lavenders sat on her skin like a feather, the color leaking out of the petals and running down into the stems and leaves in a perfect play of colors. Although it wasn’t his speciality, Noya was making good money with his watercolor tattoos. His DMs always got blown up into space after they’d post a new one on their parlor’s Insta.

Speaking of which. „Yachi-Chan!“ he screamed up in the general direction of their lobby, „Can you get the camera?“

He was just done instructing his customer on the proper care when Yachi stumbled down the winding staircase and into his corner.

„Yes, Nishinoya-San!“ she almost barked, brandishing her Nikon. 

Noya turned to the girl. „Is it okay if Yachi-Chan does the picture? ’Cause despite my incredible artistic ability, I’m actually shit at taking photos.“

His customer laughed and nodded, and Yachi worked her magic.

Noya parted from the girl with a grin and money in his hand. Whistling, he cleaned up his workstation while Yachi leaved through the pictures she’d taken.

Suddenly, she piped up, „Nishinoya-San, why do you only tattoo flowers?“

Noya raised his eyebrows. „I don’t _only_ do flowers,“ he interjected.

Wordlessly, Yachi stared at the gazillion sketches of colorful blossoms and buds pinned all around his workstation. Ah, yes.

Noya shrugged. „They’re cute. They all have different meanings, everybody has a different connection to them. Everybody has a favorite one. I don’t know, flowers rock.“

Yachi hummed, „I guess you’re right. I was just wondering since Tanaka focusses on irezumi, and you said that you learned to tattoo from the same artist.“

„Oh yeah, we did,“ Noya agreed, „Ukai is a lot into realism, though. We kind of learned the basics from him and went from there. Figured out what we wanted to do, our own style, stuff like that.“ 

„But you don’t really have a style. You have a subject,“ Yachi assessed.

Noya smirked at her. „Does that bother you?“

„No! No, no no! I, I’m sorry, I think it’s actually pretty cool! You can do pretty much anything, and your customers are always happy, and it looks totally, super amazing!“

„Thanks!“ Noya said, „Do you have a style you want to pursue?“

Yachi cleared her throat, trying out a few different saturations on the image she’d picked. „Uhm, not yet? I’m kind of into dot work at the moment, though. And geometric designs! There is this one guy from Tel-Aviv, his work is incredible! Wait, I’ll show you some of his work!“

That guy’s stuff turned out to be fucking spectacular, but browsing through his website they found out that you had to wait two years for an appointment. Fucking _two_ years. They speculated on what other gigs the guy was playing at for such a long waiting list and only came up with a crack lab.

Hours later in his apartment, Noya finished cutting any edible ingredient he could find into his soup and went back to his sketchbook. His customer for tomorrow had requested a sunflower field. That was easy enough to do, except there was also supposed to be a figure tending to the sunflowers. Like a gardener, standing in the field. Not super detailed, more of a hint among the sea of yellow. Which was cool, Noya could totally draw human characters, he just couldn’t decide on a style. A little chalky probably, to go along with the rest of the drawing.

Noya scribbled a couple of lines, a hunched figure, an Oba-San, holding a watering can. Nah, though, she was absolutely dwarfed next to the plants. The character needed to be tall, sunflower-stalk-tall. Head poking out just above the huge husks. Black hair, in contrast to the yellow flowers. Or no, brunet. Maybe with a hat? A straw hat. And those overalls that gardeners everywhere were obliged to wear. A white shirt, maybe?

Noya leant back and snapped a picture of the sketch. Looking at the photo made it easier to recognize any weird stuff, but the figure actually looked good. Maybe it should be bigger? A little bit more recognizable, with an actual face. Hm. Brown eyes, to go with the hair. Oooh, and thick eyebrows! Those never went out of style. Long, straight nose. And, and full lips. Oh shit, and a goatee! Ah, so this person was a guy, then. Well, he looked nice enough. Definitely gardening material.

Noya’s dinner bubbled over the pot and into the open gas flame. His chair screeched as he pushed himself off of it. Noya threw a few ladles of the soup into a bowl, munched on it as he continued his sketch one-handed. So, a hat. Long, brown hair falling down, curling over the guy’s shoulders. Or maybe a top bun and no hat? A half bun! Shit, he looked good with anything. Even in those stupid overalls. A few tattoos maybe. Or a lot of tattoos, everywhere on his arms. Well. Piercings? In his face. His lips? His ears, a shit ton of piercings. Ugh, this didn’t feel right. Maybe… glasses?

Noya’s phone chimed. Half his attention still on the sketch, he skimmed the new email he got and froze. Fuck. It was past ten and the guy was asking for Noya’s sketch. Okay, okay, he could do this, just add the gardener into the sunflower field, just the head and the face and a bit of the shoulders, maybe, maybe a little chest hair poking out of the shirt, just…

There he was with his watering can and top bun, minus the hat. Way too big, smack dab in the middle of the sketch. This, was this what the customer wanted? Noya took a picture and sent it to the client, apologizing for his late message and was this okay or was the figure too overbearing? Did he want more focus on the sunflowers?

The customer’s reply came a minute later and only read _THIS LOOKS AMAZING THANK YOU SEE YOU TOMORROW_

Well, cool! Hopefully he’d be happy with it tomorrow on his skin. Noya set down his pen, flicked through the drawings he’d thrown together.

There were ten pages of them. Sketches on either side, every last shred covered with eyes and hair and goatees. When had he even _done_ all that?

Mouth open, Noya stared at his increasingly detailed sketches. His eyes got caught by one of the latest ones. A full face with a small, but warm smile, curling in the corners of the guy’s lips. 

Huh. Maybe Yachi had a point. The one time he focussed on something that wasn’t anything flora related, and he got completely lost in it. Probably a sign that it was time to try out some new stuff.

His phone went off again, but one glance revealed that it was Ryuu, just in time for their usual pre-wedding jitters call. Noya answered his phone with, „You are an amazing human being, and you will be an even more amazing husband.“ Ryuu immediately burst into tears. It only went uphill from there.

Fortunately, his customer freaking loved his new tattoo. It was really one of Noya’s best works so far, incredibly vibrant, warm, sunny. He almost wished he’d tattooed it on himself.

After the guy left spaced out in a happy cloud, Noya sat down at his workstation again. He didn’t have any appointments on the weekend, but it was probably not a bad idea to get an early start on those passion flowers he’d do on Monday.

So Noya flipped open his sketchbook and started some warm-ups. A stem of strawberry flowers, then raspberry flowers. A hibiscus in a pot, sagiso admired by an outstretched hand. A small bouquet of daisies tied with a string, a pair of garden shears cutting daffodils, the daffodils held out in two hands. The hands wet from the daffodils’ morning dew, the hands caked with soil, the hands plucking an apple, the hands planting a tomato seedling, the hands wiping at a thick, sweaty brow, the hands collecting a ladybug from a rosebush, the hands-

„Nice, you finally branching out, man?“

Noya scratched a thick line through the hands tracing their fingertips over the palm of another. It filled Noya with such irrational anger and disappointment that he had to swallow them down before he could answer.

„Yeah, looks like it,“ he said, „Got inspired yesterday or something.“

Noya gave his bestest of friends the once-over. „You feelin’ better today?“

Ryuu scratched at his cloud covered head. „Yeah?“ he guessed. Then he sighed, „I mean, no. Fuck no. Her family fucking _disowned_ her. Because of me, because she chose me. Like, I mean maybe she doesn’t resent me now, but she definitely will in a few years from now, and then maybe we’ll have kids, and we’ll have to get a divorce, I’m gonna have to _divorce_ her, because she’ll fucking _hate_ me, I mean-“

„Okay, Boo, remember, deep breaths,“ Noya interrupted the onslaught of negativity.

Ryuu one-upped him and laid down on Noya’s tattoo couch, sucking in air.

Noya drummed his pencil on his sketch pad and said, „She never really liked her peeps. They were such assholes to her when you guys started dating, I don’t think she gives a shit that they’re not coming to the wedding.“

„But it’s more than that,“ Ryuu whined, „They _disowned_ her, like they kicked her out of the family. They even said they might adopt somebody else who’s not making such braindead choices. How am I supposed to make that shit up to her, I mean…“

Ryuu gesticulated vaguely at his general person, which, no.

„Dude, I don’t think you’re supposed to make it up to her? She had to choose between the amazing guy that is you and her family, which is made up of judgmental assholes. She’s a smart girl, she made the right choice all on her own. She’s not gonna resent you for a choice she picked herself.“

Ryuu hummed. Then he burst out, „If only I’d become a boring office worker with the most boring hair cut and ties that hates body modification. My life would be so much fucking easier, that’s for sure.“

„You’d have also killed yourself at this point, though.“

Ryuu huffed, „Yeah, you’re probably right. But at least I’d have a job that was legal and all. Wouldn’t have to pretend like I’m getting my money by hairdressing stupid fancy dogs.“

The blasphemy! „Are you saying you don’t like our cover story? You fucking hate my idea, is that what you’re saying? _You_ came up with the name Poodle Strudel, you told me it was a cool idea!“

„I never said it was cool, I said it was awesome, so-“

„Since when does that not mean the same thing?!“

Their fight distracted Ryuu long enough from his self-destructive spiral for his customer to show up. By the time Ryuu was poking up her thigh with his bamboo handle, he had forgotten his worries. Temporarily, at least. It was fucked up to see his best friend doubting himself so much, just because his fiancée’s family sucked ass. But Kiyoko was a smart girl, and Noya was sure she realized that she was just as lucky as Ryuu was. Maybe it would take some time, but she’d convince Ryuu that she was there to stay.

Until then, Noya would continue being the most supportive best man that he already was and keep Ryuu from imploding on himself. Simple.

Apparently, Noya’s days were now interrupted by Ryuu’s wedding related meltdowns and the prevention of said meltdowns by a hair’s breadth. Which was cool, he was cast in the role of best friend and best man at the same time. He could deal. But there was something else creeping from the edge of his consciousness into full-blown awareness. Tip-toeing around his mind so quietly, it had kept him in the dark and then thrust itself into bright daylight every time he flipped through his sketchbook. 

The guy had snuck into his warmup routine as if he’d always been there, lurking in the tip of his pencil, slowly unspooling onto the paper until Noya had filled page upon page with him. He’d look at the smudges of graphite and wonder how the guy could have slipped by him again. Messy lines of his hands and face and hair spread everywhere. It wasn’t just his sketchbook, either. The guy expanded, infiltrated the spaces around the pad. Loose sheets of paper, shopping lists, post-its strewn around Noya’s workstation, notes on his tablet. 

Thing was, Noya wasn’t even mad about it. He was actually looking forward to his warmups every day now. To bowing over his work station, drawing the dude smelling a chamomile and sneezing on the pollen or carefully petting a bumblebee. His time spent on warmups stretched from twenty minutes to sixty, and by the time he was ready to really start drawing, his cheeks hurt a little from smiling.

So the guy gradually occupied more space in his mind and on his paper. Noya supposed it was only logical that he’d progress from sketches to drawings at some point, too.

Like always, he’d sketched the guy, but then ended up really liking what he’d thrown together. So he’d drawn over the lines with a pen, erased the pencil scribbles. His markers had fucking winked at him after that. Suddenly, it was like three hours later and he was staring at the guy, obvi, hair halfway up in a complicated cross of a flower crown and kanzashi. It was incredibly colorful and detailed, little bits of obsession bleeding through the shading in the jaw and the folds of the silk woven in the hair. It was… cool, a little silly and funny. Also pretty fucking beautiful, like, holy shit.

Still a little freaked by his own creation, Noya pinned it on his inks cupboard. He almost tore it down again in shock when Yachi gushed, „Oh, cool! Is your OC a taikomochi, too?“

His what? „OC?“ Noya asked.

Yachi smiled. „Original character! The guy, the gardener!“

„Oh, okay.“ Noya stared at his piece, the white dove resting in the guy’s hair with only one eye drawn in. „Errh, no? I don’t know, Ryuu sent me this video of a lady doing this sugar skull makeup on her face, and at the end of it she had this super elaborate, huge-ass flower crown on her head. I guess I got kind of inspired?“

Yachi hummed. After admiring his drawing in silence, she turned to him, smiling. „What else does your gardener do?“

Noya blinked. „Is there stuff he’s supposed to do?“

„No! No, of course not,“ Yachi replied, waving her hands, „I just meant… what’s his story?“

Noya was silent, eyes caught by another sketch of the guy weeding around a geranium. „His story?“ he repeated. 

„Yes! I mean, does he heave a shop where he sells his flowers? Where does he live, how old is he? How did he become a gardener?“ After seeing Noya’s absolutely confused face, she added blushing, „You, you know, that kind of stuff.“

Noya shrugged, a weird feeling twisting in his gut. What did _Yachi_ care? „I don’t know.“

„Oh. You, you never thought about that? What his life could be like?“

„Not really,“ Noya answered, „He’s just a dude that I draw sometimes.“ All the time.

Quietly, Yachi countered, „You draw him a lot, though.“

And what was that supposed to mean? „Yeah, for warmups and shit. I don’t have, like, his entire biography laid out. I don’t think about anything when I draw him.“

Noya snapped his mouth shut. That had totally been a lie.

Yachi stared at his face, then dropped her gaze to her own hands. Why was he getting upset about this? There was nothing to be upset about, Yachi was just being friendly and maybe a little nosy.

„Uh, okay, totally okay!“ Yachi blurted, „I’m sorry, Noya-San! I have a ton of OCs and all these stories about them. I guess I kind of extrapolated from that, I shouldn’t have assumed you do the same!“

Noya pasted on a grin and waved her off, annoyance still roiling somewhere in his stomach. „No problem! I’m sorry, too. It’s just… not like that for me, I guess. He’s not that OC thingy, just a dude that I draw.“

Another lie. Why was he even _lying_ about this? Why couldn’t he just say what he was thinking?

Apparently though, Yachi didn’t pick up on his inner turmoil, since she just said, „Got it!“

It kept nagging at him through his warmup, which was pointedly free of the gardener. Was the guy… a person? Did he have an identity? A name? He didn’t really have any answers to those questions. Should he feel bad about that? And why was he taking all of this so weirdly personal?

It took Noya another client with a daisy tattoo to decide that pffft, whatever. He could think and draw whatever he wanted about this guy. Deciding on a tragic backstory wasn’t a requirement for drawing him, Noya could just sketch him because it was fucking fun to do so. No personhood needed. The end.

Which was of course why Noya couldn’t sleep three days later browsing the internet for first names. His eyes were burning, his fingers cramping over the track pad, but Ken was just not the right name, god-fucking-dammit!

Sketches of the guy littered his desk, the floor around his seat cushion. Dark eyes, dark hair, curled lips, all staring at him in judgement. Because Noya had drawn him, crafted him from the synapses of his brain and pads of his fingers, but he couldn’t find his stupid name.

Haruto? Sounded way too much like Naruto to be comfortable. Hide. Hideki? Hideo! God, no. K… K… Katsunaga. Ewww, gross. Although, weren’t there some daimyo that had that name? Thing was that this guy definitely wasn’t daimyo material.

Gin.

Just… why.

This all sounded shitty and weird and not like this guy. At all. Why was this so difficult? He fucking created this guy, shouldn’t he be able to come up with a name, too?

Akira! Oh no, flashbacks of mutating flesh bombarded his brain instantly. He sipped on his can of whisky highball to get rid of the images.

Okay. Okay, maybe it was too ambitious to try to find a name. Maybe he should focus on other stuff first. Like age. That was easier, because, well, obviously the guy wasn’t old. Probably around Noya’s age. So, like, late twenties, maybe early thirties. Could also be mid-twenties. Mid-thirties. Late, late thirties? It could be fucking anything under forty, the guy just looked young. Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t people over forty that _didn’t_ look young. Now that he thought about it, his math teacher in high school hadn’t looked a day over thirty-five, and she’d been well past fifty, an eternally sore point for his mom.

So obviously, age was nothing but a number. Actual biography was more important than that, anyway. The cornerstones and details of a life, friends, family, hobbies. Shit like that.

Noya set down his pen on the notepad, stared at the blank page. He should start small. The guy probably went to school, graduated with average marks, and… went to university to study gardening? How the fuck _did_ one become a gardener? Was it more of a family thing, like you inherited a… garden? A gardening shop, most likely. Did that also include fields where the flowers grew? Did gardeners have to tend to their own plants or did they just buy the flowers at a flower market or whatever? Oh, no wait, that was a florist!

Oh shit, Noya didn’t even know whether the guy was a gardener or a florist. But he knew he liked gardening! Maybe gardening was just his hobby, and his actual job was something else? 

Noya blanched. Why did he have to think that? He couldn’t unthink it now, it turned everything topsy-turvy. He tipped his head back, the last drops of highball sloshing over his tongue. Once he’d gulped it all down, he crushed the can and tossed it into the general direction of his trash.

Maybe a backstory? He became a gardener/florist because his parents were, too. But they died, because… the dad was killed by the yakuza, and the mum died giving birth to him. In prison, because they pinned the murder on her! And she wanted him to exact revenge on the yakuza guys for killing his family, so the guy becomes…

And yep, that was the plot of Lady Snowblood.

Noya threw his pen into the trash right after the can. This was bull. It was all wrong, everything was wrong, why did it feel so wrong? _He_ had come up with that guy. He’d thought of that face, those hands, that little mole in the crook of his arm, and that had all felt natural, like… something organically growing together. Just pouring out from him onto the sheet, irrefutable, genuine. That other stuff just felt like crap. Contrived fiction constraining the guy into a mold he didn’t fit into.

Nothing that Noya could come up with was actually him. The guy, the character, was just… slipping away, beyond his reach. Impalpable. Noya could see him, but not read him. The weird gut feeling returned along with a completely ridiculous note of sadness. Why couldn’t he get to know his own stupid creation? Why did everything he came up with just feel so crushingly wrong?

God, what a stupid thing to get sad over. He knew this OG or whatever bullshit wasn’t for him. Better to just stick to his guns and draw the gardener, like he always did. His nameless face, angles and arches engraved in Noya’s fingers as if he’d carved them out of marble. That was still good and valid, right?

Fortunately for Noya, the more the date of the wedding approached, the more self-sabotaging Ryuu got. It could have been hilarious if it would have remained at stuff like getting a hair extension to look like Nakadai Tatsuya in Harakiri. But no, Ryuu had to try shit like changing the ordered wedding cake to spell out _I’m sorry you married me_. How depressing was that? So the time had finally come for Noya to act like a responsible adult. Even more than that, he had to act like a responsible adult babysitting another adult that did shit he wouldn’t even do when he was high. 

Every hour, Noya checked in with Ryuu. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he about to set fire to himself and/or other things? A few weeks ago, Noya would have been shocked at how many times Ryuu answered _yes_ to the last question. But after having to talk Ryuu out of applying for a job on an oil platform, he became kind of unfazed.

So Noya was on babysitting Ryuu duty 24/7, and it was the reason why he got kind of stupid. To distract himself from Ryuu watch, he’d draw the guy, of which he had to distract himself by checking in on Ryuu. That created a kind of distraction maelstrom. It sucked Noya in with no hopes of ever getting out, attention consumed by either one or the other. It wasn’t good, Noya could tell it wasn’t good, how sketching the guy for his leisure grew into more of an obsession each day. But it was only until Ryuu’s wedding. Everything would go back to normal afterwards, so it actually wasn’t a big deal. Just some temporary madness.

At two in the morning, Noya had just talked Ryuu out of hiring an actor to play himself at the wedding so he didn’t have to go. He was exhausted, but knew he couldn’t get any sleep if he went to bed now. Pencils and paper were strewn over his low table. At this point, grabbing one of each after hanging up his phone was just muscle memory.

Noya hardly thought about what he was smearing on the paper, but of course it turned into the gardener. Smudges on his white tank top, hauling a bag of seed somewhere with a determined look. Hair up, but slipping out of his bun, wisps sticking to his wet neck. Noya dotted beads and pearls of sweat along his forehead, down his throat, glistening in the hair poking out of the neckline. It was a hot day, apparently. To grant the guy a break, he drew another sketch of him, this time pressing a cold can of ice tea to his flushed cheek with a blissful expression.

Noya smiled. He liked that. He liked giving the guy something nice.

His eyes traced over the sketch, got caught on the chest hair he’d drawn. That had come pretty natural to him. Fanning out and up the gardener’s pecs, a little thicker around the nipples. Although Noya didn’t know that, he hadn’t drawn that yet.

Fives minutes later, he did. A sketch of the guy shrugging out of his tank top, revealing not only the hair growing over his chest, but also down his abs, a thick line down the ridge of his stomach, over his navel, disappearing into the cotton of his underwear. There was a lot of it. For touching, grooming, brushing your fingers through, grazing your nails against the warm skin underneath.

Except for curiosity and a vague thrumming, there was nothing in Noya’s head as he divested the guy of his pants as well. Just to check out the hair situation on his legs.

It was spare, less thick than on the upper body, but still a nice coverage overall. Noya drew tiny curls of it sticking out of the guy’s dark underwear, jammed under the fabric. He shaded the shorts darker towards the crease of the thighs, where they should be a little drenched with sweat. Noya sketched peaks and valleys, folds of cloth where the fabric was loose, taut seams where it was stretching over flesh.

Noya stared at his drawing, bit his lip. Stared at the very obvious erection straining in that underwear he’d just pencilled. Contemplated his own hardening cock in his pj pants. Continued drawing.

The gardener, kneeling, one hand pushing down his underwear, the other holding his dick. Noya fumbled a little with his eraser, before settling on it poking out a few inches over the guy’s fist, thick in between his thumb and pointer finger. Lots of people liked fat cocks, and Noya was one of them, so sue him. He drew it wet, dripping with pre-cum, spilling down the head, pooling at the palm of his fist. He focused on the guy’s expression as much as he did on the droplets of pre-cum. Brows drawn a little together in need, mouth open, saliva gleaming on the pout of the lower lip, eyes stuck on his stiff prick, but head slightly turned away in embarrassment.

He wanted it bad. It was written all over his face, abashed by his own eagerness, by the way his cock drooled all over himself.

The pencil scratched over the page. He’d probably like playing with his ass. Cramming a slick finger into his hole. It would make him so wet his hand would be soaked with it, his balls heavy and full. Two was even better, to feel the stretch, the pleasure from being filled. He’d like to tease himself, but not too much, desperation making him screw himself down in his fingers, shoving them up deep. Biting his lip, face turned down. Exposing himself to Noya, getting off on it so much that his cock didn’t stop twitching for it but embarrassed by it all the same.

But just fingers wasn’t enough, right, so Noya would help him, just a little, just hold the dildo, keep it steady so he could fuck himself on it. Hot skin bumping against his fingers, smudging them with lube. They’d look at each other. Tiny moans and gasps and nothing else, too stubborn to ask for what he really wanted, but they both knew it. Noya’d make him wait for it, make him earn it, because that was half the fun, right, making him wait until he broke down with his legs shaking over the toy, mewling, begging for Noya’s cock in him because that thing just wasn’t _enough_.

But Noya was gonna make him work for it harder, pulling his ass off the dildo and his mouth over Noya’s dick. Slipping in and out of it, warm and soft and wet, and even wetter when Noya pushed it in deep, nudged against his soft palate and flooded his mouth with saliva. It was so fucking slippery, his hair so soft, cheeks so flushed, eyes wide and adoring, baring himself for Noya, fucking _gifting_ himself to him, because, because he-

His pencil rolled over the table as Noya grasped his hot dick, stroked it from root to tip, eyes glued on his face, wanting Noya so much, desperate to belong to him. Noya bent forward, fist slapping against his groin, leaning in close, because he wanted that, too, being close, belonging, owning, with _him_ , his dick jerked, it rushed through his groin and thighs, shivered through his tense muscles and clenched fingers, splashed into his palm and leaked out between his fingers.

With heaving breath, Noya bumped his forehead on the paper. His cum was already cooling in his hand. He’d have to change into a fresh pair of pajamas before boing to bed. Meh, these ones were starting to kind of smell, anyway.

Noya opened his eyes and looked right at the face he’d drawn on the page, the warmth, the desperation. A pang of yearning hit him so fiercely that his breath faltered a little. Then he laughed, because it was just ridiculous, he was being so incredibly pathetic. Downright fucking shameful. He ripped the sketches from the pad and shoved them under a pile of rice lily drawings.

Noya hadn’t looked at those in ages, so they could stay there safely, to be forgotten until the next time he wanted to cringe at his own stupidity.

The week before the wedding, Noya had to stop Ryuu from running into traffic several times. Only once, though, he had to keep him from setting fire to his wedding kimono. Honestly, Noya was glad he’d just burst into Ryuu’s apartment with his key and not waited for Ryuu to open the door, because that kimono was fucking handmade.

Since sometimes they could be smart, they’d kept their appointment book free the days before and after the wedding. That kind of forward thinking proved to be lifesaving when Noya had to drive Ryuu down to Kyoto. Apparently, he urgently needed a charm from Yasaka Shrine, because shrine for relationship between men and women, and his marriage would surely fail without the Gods’ blessing and bla bla. It turned out to be a good thing, because Kiyoko was able to whip things into shape at home for their big day, free of needy calls requesting her reassurance that she loved Ryuu and wasn’t disappointed that he was a criminal tattoo artist. 

Noya snapped a shot of a frantic Ryuu sifting through the charms to find one related to luck in love. Smirking, he sent it to Kiyoko. She sent him a thumbs up in return and a picture of Ryuu’s pressed tux, then a picture of a prematurely gray guy holding up a mountain of paper cranes. Noya didn’t know him, so he was probably part of Kiyoko’s bridal party. Apparently, he was also doing an amazing job at trying to get the couple some good luck, so Noya replied with another thumbs up.

His eyes swept over the red and green painted pillars and shutters, the bell ropes rustled by the wind. Looking at the shrine, it was almost unfathomable that it was more than a thousand years old. A thousand years. Just standing here, while generations of people prayed and pleaded and praised. Like, what the fuck, that shit was old!

Noya sauntered up to the dance stage in front of the shrine’s main sanctuary. Hundreds of lanterns hung down from the canopy, all bearing the names of local businesses. It was probably beautiful here at night. With all those lanterns lit and swaying in the breeze. Maybe he’d like that? Noya himself wasn’t terribly religious, but he still enjoyed seeing shrines and participating in some of the traditions. Being here for Gion-Matsuri was probably pretty cool. Maybe he could come back here with…

Well. No, he couldn’t.

He burst out laughing, because it was pretty funny. Even more so when the tour group already eyeing him like an escaped convict made a hasty retreat towards the entrance. Really, it was. On the other hand, it was also fucking weird and concerning. Thinking about coming here with a guy that _didn’t even exist_ , that he totally conjured up out of thin air and into his sketchbook, like it was an actual thing that could happen, that seemed kind of crazy. That _was_ kind of crazy. Babysitting duty was literally driving him insane.

„Dude, they don’t have any love charms.“

Noya whirled around, fought off the chill in his bones and rasped, „Huh?“

Ryuu grumbled, „They have charms for fucking luck in traffic, but none for love. I thought this shit here had something to do with relationships and stuff.“

Noya shrugged. „Well, what did those maiko do that came here asking for love?“

„I think they just prayed?“ Ryuu offered.

So that’s what they did. With everyone giving them a wide berth, they had ample space to throw in their coins as an offering and shake the bell. Noya would have forgotten the second bow if Ryuu hadn’t inclined his head next to him again. He _did_ get the hand clapping just right, though. Noya’s mind was blank before he scrambled to ask the Gods to bless Ryuu’s relationship with Kiyoko and to give them eternal love and happiness and all nice things. Then he didn’t know what other stuff to pray for and just stood there.

A face glimmered in his mind like a spark, but Noya stomped it out before it could catch fire. That, that was stupid. You didn’t ask for stupid stuff, especially if it was impossible and ridiculous. What, how would he even ask? Could they maybe please create a Pinocchio man out of some stupid sketches? It was rude to ask the Gods outrageous things like that. They would probably smite him where he stood for his insolence. Noya probably just needed to get laid or something. He wasn’t yearning for connection with an imaginary man, but for some high quality D.

So Noya continued standing next to Ryuu with his eyes closed, the scent of the chrysanthemums floating around them and reeling him in like a flytrap.

They left the shrine and got drunk in an izakaya. That got even more fun when they were approached by a group of office workers admiring their tattoos. Truth be told, it was kind of refreshing from all the judgy stares they usually got. They progressed to a karaoke bar together where the dudes revealed themselves to be a mixture of low-level politicians and yakuza. Noya shouldn’t have been surprised, it was always the gangsters that openly liked their tattoos, but he still kind of was. They had been so pleasant, and they definitely knew how to sing _Christmas Eve_. Ryuu gave him a slightly panicked look as he stumbled into the direction of the bathroom.

They met in front of the stalls. „Should we leave?“ Ryuu asked him as soon as he shouldered the bathroom door open, „Like, they told us who they are, who knows what these people have planned with us, they’re fucking criminals!“

Noya shrugged. „So are we.“

„Yeah, but we’re not extorting money out of people and shit!“

„Yeah, just practicing stuff that we need a medical license for, no biggie.“

Ryuu huffed, „They don’t know that! I could totally be a fucking doctor!“

They looked at each other, then sob-laughed so hard and so long that one of the yakuza came to check on them.

After a few more beers and some more Christmas songs, the group started wringing Ryuu about his craft. Finally, one of the politicians came forward and asked if Ryuu would tattoo him, tonight. A koi, because the mayoral elections were tomorrow, and his boss needed all the luck he’d get. Of course, Ryuu was moved by all that loyalty and agreed immediately. So they staggered out of the karaoke bar, along the winding streets of Kyoto to some tattoo shop. Honestly, Noya had no fucking idea where they were and how they got inside, but he cared shit all.

While Ryuu got the bamboo handle ready and lectured the guy on how he was doing this shit while intoxicated, Noya filmed their exchange. Better safe than sorry. Maybe that insurance for legal expenses would finally come in handy, too.

The koi would be small, since tebori took so incredibly long and a bottle cap sized fish was the only thing Ryuu could get done in one night. The rest of the group got bored. Twenty minutes later, Noya was trying his hardest to fumble his way around an unfamiliar work station. Fuck it, life was short, right? And these guys were nice, and he made sure that one of them recorded it as he told them that he was gonna do this totally buzzed.

He gave them each a Dragon Ball with a different number of stars. They fucking loved it, didn’t stop taking pic after pic of their immaculately stung and shaded crystal ball.

When Ryuu and him left for their B’n’B, they swapped their LINE and Instagram info. The politician thanked Ryuu profusely for his koi, and then somehow they were already at their lodging. Ryuu passed out immediately on the only bed. Quite honestly, Noya needed some more water and to calm down a little from the shit they’d just pulled.

He poured himself a glass, struggled out of his clothes. Ryuu’s snores grated from the bedroom all the way to the kitchen. They were a somewhat soothing soundtrack, backing his attempt to locate some paper and a pen. Noya made a strike next to the phone; a real landline, a relic from times ancient and mysterious. He sat his ass down at the kitchen table and started sketching.

He drew Vegeta flexing his muscles. That had been stupid. Even for being pretty wasted and shit, that had been pretty stupid. Or maybe it was good? Now they totally had friends in the government. And organized crime. That _must_ translate into a Get Out of Jail Free card in some way, right? That was probably good. And also, it had been fucking hilarious. God, he hoped those Dragon Balls actually looked good. They had seemed good, but his judgement was notoriously impaired when operating on nothing but beer and tebasaki. Well, those dudes had liked them, so it was probably okay.

He snorted. Noya had tattooed Dragon Balls on small fry yakuza and politicians tonight. His fingers fucking itched to tell somebody, but the only person he would usually tell something like that had experienced it with him. There was nobody else in his life he could trust to share this with.

When Noya blinked, he looked at a body clad in a cozy sweater and curled in a love seat, a face framed by long hair and glowing with a smile. There was just enough space between his folded legs for another body. For somebody to climb right into his lap, cushion his head on his shoulder, lean his forehead against his neck.

Noya clawed his fingers in his loose shorts. He was genuinely, officially pathetic. Pining for somebody that he’d dreamed up. How fucking uncool was that? More than that even, it was messed up, entirely narcissistic. Because what was he obsessing over if not his own imagination and artistic ability? What self-absorbed artist shit to pull, really. Noya had honestly thought he was better than that.

Jaw clenched tight, Noya stared at that face. That smile. Warm, fuzzy things surfaced from the pit of his stomach to the tiny capillaries resting just underneath his skin. They tingled there, like sparkling water fizzing up to the tips of his fingers. But they couldn’t go anywhere. Nothing could develop, nothing could grow. His feelings were stillborn before the pencil point even touched the paper.

He couldn’t go on like that. It was stupid, it was piteous. _He_ was stupid and piteous. The paper crinkled in his hand as Noya crumpled it up. He tossed it into the trash without looking, gulped down the remaining water.

When he pulled the sheets over himself, the guilt was eating him alive. He fell asleep utterly aware of what a fool he was.

The next day, Ryuu was too hungover to ruin his wedding. He dozed against the passenger seat window while Noya drove them back to Tokio pumped full of energy drinks. Suzuki Hiroshi drifted through their speakers, and Noya didn’t think of anything.

Once he had deposited Ryuu at Kiyoko’s place, he returned the rental and walked home. He ordered pizza, chewed on it while watching Seven Samurai. There was a hollow ache in his stomach, but Noya did his best to ignore it. He checked in with Kiyoko a few times to make sure that Ryuu hadn’t attempted suicide. Apparently at a time when the groom had been more or less functional, he’d told her all about the nice people they met last night.

Noya had to put his phone away for like half an hour before he could face Kiyoko’s judgement on their stupidity.

But there was no judgement. Instead, there was a description of Ryuu prostrating himself on his back like a beaten dog while snot-crying for Kiyoko’s forgiveness. It sounded funny and humiliating in equal measures. Also, suspiciously calm.

 _you’re not mad that Ryuu made friends with the yakuza_ , he texted her.

_Nah._

That was all. Also the first time Noya had ever witnessed Kiyoko using the word ‚nah‘. Were they rubbing off on her? 

Kiyoko continued their conversation painting the picture of misery that was Ryuu suffering on the couch. She had that detached, but loving way about it that made it all the funnier. It had Noya smiling at his phone, because he knew they would be just fine. Obviously, their visit to Kyoto had not been a waste. 

Noya spent the rest of his day sketching and watching anime in between food breaks. He crashed on his bed much too early. Not a single thought was in his mind as his head hit the pillow.

On _the_ day, Noya woke up at nine. He showered thoroughly, messed around with his hair for twenty minutes, shaved off the peach fuzz that sprouted on his chin. Since he couldn’t grow a respectable beard, he tended to his sideburns with extra special care.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he just put on whatever. The important thing was the suit, anyway, and he wouldn’t put that on until they were at the shrine. Second in line was an extra shirt. For those occasions when Noya was too drunk to coordinate and spilled shit everywhere, most memorably: muriatic acid.

Noya hauled his shit to the car rental place from the day before. And wouldn’t you know it, the employee greeted him exuberantly. So it _had_ been a good idea to gas the car up! He should really rub that in Ryuu’s face, he’d been such a bitch about it yesterday. Oh shit, Ryuu!

Noya smiled and rushed the lady through the rental process, whipped out his phone as he slid into the driver’s seat. Fortunately, Ryuu picked up on the first ring.

„Yo, yo, yo!“

„Don’t kill yourself, I mean are you killing yourself, put down that lighter or whatever you’re holding right _now_ -“

Ryuu cackled. „Does that mean you’re on your way, bro?“

„Yes, don’t touch anything until I’m at your apartment or I swear I’ll kick you down the balcony myself-“

„Awwh, I love you, too.“ 

Noya hung up and put the paddle to the floor.

When Ryuu threw his suitcase into the trunk, he seemed surprisingly… okay. He even slid into the passenger seat yelling, „Gonna get married today, fuck yeah!“

Noya scrutinized him from head to toe. „Are you going to keep this up until we’re on the high way and then suddenly yank the wheel around and kill us both in a fiery car wreck to get out of this wedding?“

Ryuu’s grin almost split his face. „No!“

Noya hummed, rolled the car out of the parking lot. With narrowed eyes, he asked, „You’re not high, are you?“

Ryuu beamed at him. „Nah. Just had a revelation.“

 _Oh shit, here we go_. „Okay, what kind?“

„If Kiyoko isn’t gonna leave me for making friends with some yakuza dudes, she’s not gonna leave me for outing her family as pretentious twats.“

Noya tried to make sense of this as he cornered through the roundabout. „I guess?“ he replied.

„So there’s nothing to worry about!“ Ryuu continued. Noya was busy looking at the road, so Ryuu’s fist colliding with his shoulder surprised him so much he yelped. „Dude, I’m getting married to the most amazing person on the fucking planet today!“

„Yeah, I know, no reason to hit me, though,“ Noya grumbled.

„I’m just so fucking excited, like, oh my God.“ Noya watched the elation brighten Ryuu’s face like the sun emerging from a cloud bank. „Like, oh my _God_!“ His friend squealed like a pig and slapped his hands against his thighs in excitement.

Noya laughed, because whatever the fuck was happening with Ryuu right now was a lot better than he had hoped. „Let’s get you married, bitch!“ he shouted.

„Fuck yeah, bitch!“

They kept their bro-esque pep talk going all the way to Saitama. In fact, Ryuu was so hyped that he let a battle cry loose when he jumped out of the car at Shikishima shrine. Good thing that they found the only unconventional shinto priest in existence for the wedding. Instead of scolding Ryuu, he just laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. 

They walked to the office. The priest kept up a pleasant chatter, and they bonded with him immediately over the fact that they all hated wedding cake. Bafflingly, he even had a few compliments about Ryuu’s tattoos. 

As soon as they were in the administrative office, Noya assisted Ryuu in putting on his wedding kimono. It was the traditional black one, adorned with the pumpkin kamon in white. Honestly, if there was one thing that Noya was jealous of, it was that Ryuu had such a cool family symbol. The Nishinoyas didn’t have shit in that department.

Once everything was donned that could be donned, Noya declared Ryuu ready to get hitched. Coincidentally, it was time to put on his own suit. Wise, morning Noya had even packed a cologne sample. He had shit all of an idea what it smelled like, but it was a cologne so at best it would be cedar wood and at worst it would be, like, grandma’s clothes trunk. So he did the spritzy thing into the air and walked into the cloud of fragrance. Immediately after, he felt stupid and sprayed some directly on his neck, too. He sniffed at the nozzle. Kind of like… cinnamon? So he was going to smell like a cinnamon bun while Ryuu entered into holy matrimony. Nailed it.

When he rejoined him, Ryuu gushed so much over his suit that the priest offered to marry them instead. He was smiling all jovially as he said it, too. Where the fuck did Ryuu find a priest that was willing to marry tattooed people _and_ gay friendly?

Cackling, they went back outside. The Tanakas had found their way to the shrine and were already milling about in front of the worship hall. There was a round of smattering applause once Ryuu stepped into the clearing. The groom blushed and guffawed as his family pawed at his kimono, took an endless string of pictures.

The sun peeked through the leaf canopy, mottled everyone’s dress in light and shadow. Ryuu’s mom looked absolutely beautiful in her tomesode. Different colored poppies were strewn across the knees, spread up to her obi on the left side. Noya made sure to congratulate her on her garment choice, then had to needle Saeko a bit for hers.

„Got yourself an upgrade from sister of the groom to second mom?“ he asked, pointing at her own tomesode embroidered with pink peonies and swooping cranes.

Saeko grinned. „Thought I could get away with it since Kiyoko’s mom decided to be a no-show.“ She mouthed the word _bitch_ to Noya, and he nodded his head emphatically. Saeko twirled for him once, then flexed her muscles in her kimono.

„So?“ she asked, wiggling her brows at him.

Not raising to the bait, Noya shrugged his shoulders. „Meh. I prefer the taiko uniform.“

She smirked at him. „Well, you haven’t seen what I’m wearing _underneath_ this thing.“

Oh hells yeah. Noya raised his fists, ready to start a _take it off_ chant, but a hush went through the small crowd.

They saw the red umbrella first. No surprise there, it was gigantic, raising up high above the couple walking underneath. It was so quiet that Noya thought he could hear the white silk folds of Kiyoko’s shiromuku swish as she walked. The heavy fabric only allowed her to take the tiniest of steps. Noya watched the silk bundling around her knees, and… holy shit, it wasn’t completely white. Instead, the white upper part of the kimono faded into cream, and then beige at the bottom. Nobody sold shiromuku like that, the bride was supposed to be dyed in the colors of her groom, which meant that Kiyoko had done that herself. Had decided to bring her own color into the marriage. Oh, and she wasn’t even wearing the headdress! Not hiding her horns either, this woman was truly carved out of steel.

Even from a distance, Noya could tell when Kiyoko’s eyes met Ryuu’s. Even if he hadn’t seen that private smile on her face, the way Ryuu burst into tears was a dead giveaway.

The bridal procession was predictably small. Noya remembered the gray-haired guy walking next to Kiyoko from the picture she’d send him of those origami cranes. Since Kiyoko’s mom was a bitch, he’d apparently filled that vacancy. He held Kiyoko’s hand gently in his, grinned like the Cheshire cat at the small gathering. Behind them walked umbrella holder guy. He must be packing some serious muscle under that black suit, that fucking umbrella was probably heavy as shit. He carried it stoically with the air of somebody used to hold himself up under heavy burdens. Noya’s eyes flicked to the last part of the chain, the man walking behind him.

Noya’s brain rebooted itself, but glitched through it, because it was impossible, entirely impossible, impossible, but there he was, or maybe he wasn’t, he, he looked different, facial features the same, but rearranged somehow, in a way that was new and different, just, or maybe it was because he was just _there_ , in the real fucking world, as if he’d just decided to spring out of the fucking pages for this special occasion, and he, he was coming closer, and _how_ , it was impossible, impossible impossible impossible impossible-

„Nishinoya Yuu?“

His voice was deep, soft, why had Noya never spared a thought for what he might sound like, but how could he have when he looked like that, technicolor bright, with actual hair not made out of blacklead glistening in the sunlight, oh, his beard was actually a little _ginger_ , just the tiniest shade, and he, his eyes, they, those, dark, and chocolate, and pecan, gingerbread, caramel, they, _fuck_ -

Noya nodded, because that guy had asked for his name, and he’d done nothing but stare, so he needed to nod to indicate that he could speak human talk in some way, and the man smiled, _pleased_ , and revealed what he’d been cradling in his hand, a flower pin, like, like the one he himself was wearing, and yes, yes, Ryuu had mentioned, but the guy stepped closer, and Noya was going to explode or faint or disintegrate into his atoms, but then he did neither of those, just stood there, while his sketched object of obsession pinned the flowers on his lapels and smelled as the cover of a fashion magazine looked like while Noya smelled like fucking _cinnamon_ , the utter disaster of it, the horror, he, he was so _beautiful_ , every hair on him, every cell of skin, he, gnnh, faaah-

„Oh,“ his living, breathing subject said, eyes shining, smile widening, „Those hydrangeas are incredible!“

The blue ones in his neck, the very ones Noya had sketched himself and contoured in thick yellow, rays of light coming off of them like in a stylized art deco painting, Noya just, kzzzzt, like ramming a fork into a socket, from his lips to his fingertips to his toes, soft and plush, molding themselves against Noya’s.

Very gently, he sucked on the man’s bottom lip, pinched them between his own, and there was nothing but that feeling, sizzling in him, kindling him, and Noya wanted to weep.

The man stepped back, and their mouths separated with a smack.

Noya looked up at him, the man looked down. An entire flush, creeping up from his throat, up his chin and under his goatee, pooling in his cheeks, but spreading up his forehead and ears, eyes bulging and mouth open, and, and Noya had just _kissed_ him. He’d kissed him, he had just, put his mouth on, he had kissed him, this, he, „I’m so sorry,“ he stammered, „I, sorry, I, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I-“

„Hey!“ Saeko whisper-called from the worship hall, because yes, there was a wedding, and Noya was the best man, so he bowed deeply at the guy, from the hips, stared at the dirt and muttered, „Please forgive me!“ and turned around and fled.

Noya slipped off his shoes and past Saeko, unable to do anything but shake his head as she murmured at him, „What the fuck did you _do_ to him, he looks fucking shellshocked-“

He stumbled over the seat cushions, let himself fall on the one next to Ryuu’s dad. There was a quick shuffle, which must have been the guy coming in from the outside and sitting down on the bridal side, but Noya didn’t look, couldn’t look, just stared at the sake cups on the table between the bride and groom and listened to the replaying scream of _WHAT THE FUCK_ in his head.

All in all, Noya was a shit best man. He didn’t listen to one single thing that the priest said, which apparently was even funny sometimes, as the muted chuckles suggested. The couple took sips from their sake cups, and Noya watched them do it only for his eyes to trace back to the man, every single fucking time, because would you fucking look at him! His stomach knotted up in shame and exhilaration and longing, he hated it and chased it at the same time.

His heart thumbed somewhere near his soft palate as Noya stared at him. He was _here_. Inexplicably, unfathomably here. From Noya’s dreams into blazing daylight.

If he hadn’t been spying him so closely, Noya wouldn’t have seen how the guy scraped his incisors over his lower lip, lost in thought. Wouldn’t have seen his eyes flitting towards him, wouldn’t have seen his cheeks spark up like gunpowder, wouldn’t have felt his heart skip a beat before the man’s gaze whipped back to the bridal couple.

How could this be real? Obviously, he wasn’t a hallucination, because other people could see him and talk to him and shit. So what in the fuck was going on?

After what felt like five minutes, the couple was already giving their offerings to the Gods. They exchanged rings after that, one of the Western traditions they had wanted to borrow. Following that, the ceremony was finished. The priest and couple filed out of the worship hall, followed by the guests. Noya staggered over to the brand-new Tanakas, hugged, congratulated, said something else, but couldn’t remember for the life of him what. He was submerged, covered by a layer of water, voices echoing, but not penetrating.

He looked at Ryuu and Kiyoko, sometimes at Saeko. Kept his eyes leashed from wandering.

Noya only moved when Ryuu seized his arm and dragged him back to the administration building. Mechanically, he unzipped the clothes bag containing Ryuu’s suit. 

„You okay there, buddy?“ Ryuu asked. He wasn’t smiling, but his face was still glowing like the butt of a firefly. 

Noya could guess the script, was about to confirm and grin and say something sassy, but instead he blurted, „Do you know the, the long-haired dude? In Kiyoko’s party?“

„Asahi?“ Ryuu guessed, and Noya’s fingers clenched in his suit jacket, heart skyrocketing, because Asahi, _Asahi_ , „Not that well. Met him a couple times before the wedding, but he seems sweet. He helped Kiyoko a lot with her clothes from what I heard. Why?“

Noya shrugged his shoulders as he slid the dress shirt over Ryuu’s hands and wrists, up his arms. Of course, Ryuu thought he knew fucking better. „He’s kinda hot, huh? Aim for the stars, bro!“ He flashed Noya a thumbs-up. „I don’t know if he’s gay, but I can ask Kiyoko about him if you want.“

„No, no,“ Noya stumbled, „I, I’ve got it covered.“

He totally did not have anything covered at all, but this, this wasn’t about him, this was about Ryuu and Kiyoko and their wedding, so Noya punched Ryuu’s shoulder so hard he cried out and shouted, „Dude! You’re married!“

Ryuu radiated happiness even as his eyes watered again. „I know! She didn’t even, like, throw a cake at my face and say it was all a prank! Like, what’s wrong with her?!“

Well, that was obvi. „Dude. I think she just loves you.“

A second of stillness, and then Ryuu was _bawling_. Noya shushed him more or less successfully while helping him into his pants. Was he ever fucking grateful that Ryuu decided against wearing any make-up for today, like, for real.

Once the flow of Ryuu’s tears had ebbed and he’d been maneuvered into his wedding suit, they reemerged from the administration building. Their small party had apparently busied themselves with passing around bottles of sake. They got greeted with a shouted toast once they entered the clearing. Cups were pressed into their hands, another toast, and the sharp burn of alcohol slid down Noya’s throat. 

After a couple of minutes, Noya couldn’t resist any longer and glanced around. The man apparently named Asahi was nowhere to be seen. Which was okay, it’s not like he could have left the wedding, it was an unwritten rule that you couldn’t leave right after the ceremony. Right? Right.

By the time Kiyoko returned, Noya had only one more cup, because Ryuu already had four, and someone needed to make sure he made it to the reception. He promptly broke out into tears again as soon as Kiyoko took his hand. Somebody behind Noya cursed softly, and there was the unmistakeable sound of money being exchanged. Noya turned around to catch umbrella holder guy handing some notes to the gray-haired one. Noya got a wink from him when he noticed Noya watching them.

Kiyoko had changed into a red kimono embroidered with colorful flowers and kois. Her hair was halfway up, pinned with a variety of carnations. Her make-up appeared to be the same, for which Noya was fucking grateful, because he wasn’t built to wait an hour for a whole outfit change. She was beautiful, of course she was, and so was the man named Asahi behind her, rearranging the folds of her kimono dragging over the ground, smoothing the ruffles of her tied obi. He hadn’t changed, still wore the same black suit like all the men in attendance, but he wore it with such _grace_. Shoulders down and back, head high, eyes so dark and, and looking right at Noya.

His brain must have short-circuited and caused a small fire, because Noya’s face lit up like tinder. He should go over there and apologize again, because it was fucked up, you didn’t just force kisses on people that gave no indication of wanting to be kissed, but that’s not what Noya did, instead, he tipped the entire cup into his mouth and choked himself on sake so he had a reason to tear his eyes away from Asahi.

When he was done coughing, Asahi had left Kiyoko’s side to make way for the photographer. He was busy shaking Saeko’s hand, who fluttered her lashes at him. It definitely did not leave Noya foaming at the mouth with completely unjustified jealousy, nuh-uh. 

The photo session was a bit of a blur. Probably half the pictures had to go directly on the trash pile, because Ryuu would not. Stop. Crying. It was so fucking hilarious, Saeko and Noya almost ruptured their guts laughing at him. The Tanakas forced him into every family picture, and it was honestly a bit of a shit show, but very fun. He would have enjoyed it more if he didn’t have to painstakingly force himself not to look into certain directions.

Still giggling, they waved goodbye to the photographer, hugged the priest and stumbled down to the parking lot. In the car, Noya shoved as much water into Ryuu as he could, because he was surely fucking dehydrated after sobbing so much? Ryuu appeared to be a little miffed by this suggestion, but was brought to the brink of tears again when Kiyoko assured him that she loved a man who was not afraid to show his feelings.

The rental whirled into the parking lot of ryokan Uta. The elderly owners were already waiting for them, greeted the bride and groom cheerfully. There were some more introductions, the check ins, yada yada yada, where was the fucking food, Noya needed to _eat_.

Soon but not soon enough, they were lead into a tatami room, low tables lining the walls. Noya plonked himself down on the seat cushion next to Saeko, started a fight over who had the rights to more rice, but was interrupted by a timid, „Can, can I sit here?“

Asahi knelt next to the seat cushion on Noya’s right, a little unsure, but still putting on a brave smile. Noya nodded, struck speechless by his handsome, entirely real face, until he remembered that oh, he still was a piece of garbage and needed to apologize.

As soon as Asahi settled on the cushion, Noya turned to him, pressed his flat palms to the bamboo mat. He lowered his head, began begging, „Please forgive-“

„No, no, please,“ Asahi cut his apology short, seized his shoulder gently, „This, that’s not necessary. You already apologized, and, and I believe you. Uhm, I accept?“

Noya raised his head. Was that okay? He didn’t feel like it was, felt more like he should grovel and beg and prostrate himself a little more in front of the injured party. He pressed his lips together. Then again, Asahi didn’t look like much of an injured party, just tucked a tiny wisp of hair behind his ear and peeked at Noya from under his lashes. Which yes, that was an _extremely_ cute look for him.

„Nishinoya Yuu, right? Tanaka-San’s business partner?“ Asahi asked.

„Yes! Although, I guess you, you already knew that.“ Noya chuckled and wanted to slap himself in the face immediately. 

Asahi inclined his head slightly. „I’m Azumane Asahi, nice to meet you.“

Oh! Oh! He had a last name, too, and that should not be a surprise at all! „Nice to meet you, too!“ Noya shouted, and just… the _cringe_ of it all.

Against all odds, Asahi’s smile grew wider, more relaxed. Before immediately turning forced again. „Nishinoya-San, could… could I ask you something?“

There was only one possible answer. „Shoot.“

Asahi’s cheeks blushed faintly. Noya wanted to lick that shade right off of his skin. Clearing his throat, Asahi stammered, „W-why did, why did you… Before when you… I, I mean, why…“

Noya sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he’d had any chances left, might not have even had them to begin with. Might as well be fucking honest about it.

Noya took the small bottle of sake from the table, reached over to slosh some of it into Asahi’s cup before filling his own. At Asahi’s confused look, he assured, „Trust me, you’re gonna need this.“

Asahi still looked confused when Noya toasted him, when he downed the sake hastily at Noya’s pointed look.

Their cups clanked down onto their tables, and Noya said, „So I might have willed you into existence.“

Asahi looked at him, then at his own hands resting on his knees. To his sake cup, back to Noya. „Go on,“ he prompted.

Noya sighed. „Some weeks ago, I started drawing a character. For work, I guess, like, just a guy. I’ve been drawing him a lot, lately, and, well… he looks pretty much exactly like you. Like, _exactly_ , like the hair and the face and everything, it’s like he backflipped out of my sketchbook and on this very cushion, it’s like fucking magic, dude!“

Asahi was very quiet. Then: „Do you have a picture? Of, of one of those sketches.“

„Uh, yeah, actually! Wait a sec!“ Noya’s pants pocket was so tight he had to lean back to fish out his phone. He thumbed into his picture gallery and settled for the nicest and gayest one, the flower crown-kanzashi mash up.

Taking a quick breath, he handed Asahi his phone.

Asahi looked. Scissored his fingers over the screen to zoom in. Looked some more. Then returned Noya’s phone. „And you think this character looks like me?“

Uh, yeah? Noya nodded his head emphatically. Asahi just… hummed. „I don’t think I agree.“

Noya looked at his phone. Hastily, he thumbed into his gallery again and picked another photo. The first one, among the sunflowers. Asahi squinted at it and shook his head. 

„That is _so_ you,“ Noya insisted, „Look at that goatee, did you see that goatee? Those eyebrows, that hot mouth! Like I would not be able to recognize those cheekbones, I mean they’re so sharp they could probably cut bread?“

Flushing a little more, Asahi leaned closer to inspect the places where Noya was pointing at. „That’s, my, my mouth doesn’t look like that, it’s not that… even. And the nose is too small, I think.“

What, he… „Are we looking at the same picture?“ Noya asked. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards when Asahi giggled.

„Okay, look,“ Asahi said, carefully prying Noya’s phone out of his hands and zooming in on the face, „It’s true what you’re saying. The features are all similar, but they’re also different to mine. This is more like… a similar type. Brown hair, brown eyes, long hair, but arranged in a different way.“

Finally, their food arrived, but Noya wasn’t interested in it as much as he should have been. He stared at his phone, then at Asahi. Was, was that true? Was it more of a type thing? But they looked so incredibly similar! Although… that wasn’t really Asahi’s nose, was it?

Slowly, he pushed a piece of salmon into his mouth and chewed on it. Had he really gotten it so wrong?

Asahi cleared his throat. „That doesn’t really… I mean, I don’t understand why you, why you…did. That.“

Oh shit. He really hadn’t. Noya pressed his lips together, felt his cheeks heat up. „Well, uh… I got… very attached. To this character.“

„Oh,“ Asahi said. „Oh. Okay.“

His expression was unreadable to Noya, God, this was fucking _awkward_. Maybe he could change seats with Saeko, Asahi probably wasn’t so keen on sitting next to him now, anyway. 

Something must have been wrong with Asahi, because he smiled slightly at Noya. „So you’re trapped in a Pygmalion situation.“

Noya blinked. „A what?“

„A Pygmalion situation. That sculptor who fell in love with a statue he made?“

Oh. „Okay?“

Noya watched Asahi wrap his lips around a piece of fried octopus pinched between his chopsticks. Honestly, Noya had no idea what Asahi had meant with his mouth being uneven. It was full, the lower lip protruding in a small pout and was obviously made from sin itself.

„He wasn’t interested in any other humans,“ Asahi continued, „Only his statue. At a festival, he prayed to the Gods for a woman that looked exactly like her. And when he returned home, he kissed the ivory statue, and she came to life.“

His mouth stretched wider into a bit of a grin, and Noya could feel that, could feel that stretch right behind his sternum. „I can assure you that I didn’t materialize from your sketchbook just to elope with you at this wedding.“

Noya’s head caught fire as if somebody had doused it with gasoline. When he said it like that, it sounded completely and utterly ridiculous.

„That’s, that’s not what I said,“ Noya protested.

„Hm,“ Asahi said, low and was that a _smirk_? „But wasn’t it what you thought?“

The, the audacity! Noya felt the fire lick at his neck, down his chest. Was, was Asahi maybe, was he _flirt-_

Asahi suddenly paled. „I’m sorry, I, I was just teasing you! That was mean, I’m sorry, I, I should know, because I’m usually on the receiving end.“

Noya burst into laughter, because what the fuck!

With a still flaming face, he said, „I graciously accept your apology.“

Asahi gave him a lopsided smile and directed his attention back to his dinner, his shoulders hunched. Well, that wouldn’t do.

„Where did you hear that Pymphalium story?“

Asahi glanced at him. „I read it in a collection of poems about Roman history.“

„Oooooh, look at you, being all educated and shit.“

Asahi snorted. „Not really. I wanted to do a dress inspired by Roman mythology and failed miserably.“

Noya paused. „So you’re a designer?“ And not a florist/gardener?

Asahi nodded. „I work for a small label in Shibuya.“

Huh.

„Ah, right! Ryuu mentioned that you helped Kiyoko with her outfits,“ Noya exclaimed.

„Yeah. We actually dyed her shiromuku together.“

„That was so fucking cool,“ Noya gushed, „Letting her bring her own color into this. Top notch, man!“

Noya raised his hand for a high five, which Asahi accepted with a giggle and a timid smack of his hand. „Thank you,“ he muttered. Then he smiled at Noya, something small, private. „Do you want to see a picture of my Roman mythology disaster dress?“

Oh, did Noya definitely want to see that. So Asahi whipped out his phone, and Noya got to witness an overly complicated construction from hell as well as a few other ones that were held together by Asahi’s craftiness and the yarn’s good will. After some urging, Asahi also showed him his successful creations, and they were _breathtaking_ , some simple, some elaborate, some just these mind bending pieces that somehow managed to look good even when worn. Noya bullied Asahi into sending him some of those pictures for „inspiration“. It had the added bonus of actually getting Asahi’s phone number and forcing his own on the designer. Two birds and all that shit.

He had just typed in the last character in his contacts when Asahi gently touched his hand. „Can I see?“ he asked. Noya had not the lick of an idea what he was talking about, until Asahi took his phone from his hand and set it on his table, spread his palm with his fingers. His thumb brushed over the peony inked into his skin, and Noya suppressed a shiver.

„This is incredibly detailed,“ Asahi murmured. He was so engrossed in the lines and shades on Noya’s palm that he didn’t even notice how his fingertips slid over them again and again. Noya would have rather bitten off his own tongue than to make Asahi aware it, though. 

„You don’t seem like a person in need of bravery,“ Asahi mused. The smile on his face softened, right there over Noya’s forehead, and when had they gotten so close?

„Noya, you shithead! You’re up next!“

Saeko pulled him up on his feet and shoved a mic into his hand. Asahi’s fingers slipped off of his palm like beads of water.

Noya stared at the bridal couple, the microphone in his head. Had they been doing speeches? When the fuck had they started on those? And shit, he hadn’t prepared anything!

„Thanks for the nice introductions,“ he blurted, received some scattered chuckling in response. Then it just cascaded out of him, their trip to Kyoto and Yasaka shrine to hunt for love charms, how they had ended up tattooing a bunch of strangers. He glossed over the strangers actually being yakuza and also being buzzed while doing the ink job, but these were things better left unsaid to the public. The guests were cheering and howling so much at the end of it that Noya felt a mic drop was more than warranted. It landed on his cushion, and he fell down right next to it. While Noya was busy giggling and being a tad tipsy, Asahi picked up the mic, leaned in close as he rose from his pillow and whispered right into his ear, „You’re _insane_.“

Noya shivered, dragged his eyes all the way up those legs, to that mouth stumbling around words, those cheeks flushing a little at the attention. Yeah, he was insane, completely insane, falling out of love with a character that he’d made up and in love with an actual man in one day. A textbook example for being batshit crazy. Or maybe he hadn’t even been in love, just desperate for a connection, or maybe he’d been in love and moved the Gods enough to shove them together like a kid playing with Barbie dolls, it was all weird and stupid, but he knew that he was falling like a rock, hard and fast, and he was so ready for it.

Unlike him, Asahi didn’t have a hilarious and fucked up story to tell, but voiced his admiration for Kiyoko’s steeliness and resolve to follow her heart. It was short, a little stumbled, but heartfelt. When he passed the mic and sat back down again, Noya petted his thigh in encouragement. Then he just… kept his hand there. Rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb, feeling the strain and shift of the muscle beneath. Asahi didn’t do much except gulp down his sake and hide his smile on the rim of the cup.

Noya knew he was being a rude little shit, but he couldn’t help but lure Asahi’s attention away from the speakers. Asahi being a captivated audience made it more than easy. They whispered and chortled and murmured to each other. Lucky for them, the other guests were having either too much fun or were too hammered from all the toasting to care much. Noya discovered that Asahi had also played volleyball in high school and was still sometimes doing it on a community level, that he learned how to sew from his guncle and that he was not at all averse to brushing his hand over Noya’s and holding it under the table. That a lot of things made him giggle, but only a handful made him outright laugh, that he loved Noya’s tats and that marveling at them required him to trace them with his fingertips. That he was especially fond of the ‚love‘ that Noya had etched onto the knuckles of both of his hands or that he just liked to swipe his thumb over them, jury was still out on that one.

By the time the speeches were finished and the wedding cake got served, Noya was ready to climb into Asahi’s lap and play some serious tonsil hockey. But alas, there was the cake, and disgusting cake it was, way too sweet and sticky. Ryuu and him shared a look of repulsion. Then Kiyoko declared that the cake was gross, and they all trash talked it officially. More rounds of sake had to be drunk to get rid of the taste. To his secret shame, Noya didn’t participate in a single one, just raised the cup to his lips without drinking the alcohol. He had certain plans for later that could not be brought to fruition if he was juiced up to his eyeballs.

Asahi had excused himself to the restroom after the first round, wise as he was. So Noya suffered through some serious ribbing about his blatant infatuation from Saeko alone. She got interrupted only once by Kiyoko advising Noya to tread lightly. He had an inkling about what she meant, but kept mulling over it on his way to the bathroom and back.

As soon as he entered the room, the gray-haired dude, who he now knew as Sugawara, pressed a water glass into his hand and slurred way to loudly, „He’s outside.“ Then he fell back on his cushion to continue armwrestling with Ryuu’s mom. Noya downed half the water and slinked outside into the garden. 

Bamboo stalks rose up high into the night sky, flanked by bushes and shrubs of lilies. Most of the light came from lanterns lining the porch, but also from the crescent moon above. The garden wasn’t very large, so it only took Noya mere seconds to spot Asahi nursing his own water on a bench.

He sauntered over to him, sunk down on the wood with as much grace as he could muster. Which really wasn’t a lot, but Asahi rewarded his attempt with a mumbled, „Elegant.“

Because Noya had been raised well, he leaned into Asahi’s side and replied, „Thank you.“

Immediately after, he fixed Asahi with a pointed look. „Went to the restroom and didn’t see you there, where did you run off to?“

The blush spreading over Asahi’s cheeks didn’t clue him in on anything, but was nice to watch nonetheless.

„Uhm, I,“ Asahi started, stopped. He blinked at Noya, took his hand into his own again. And such a soft hand it was, too, tiny pinpricks sprinkled on the finger pads. Noya watched his face come closer, then saw only a few wisps of his hair that had fought free of his bun and swayed in the summer air. His forehead was warm where he pressed it against Noya’s temple.

„Noya-San… Ah, I mean, can, can I call you Noya?“ he stammered.

Noya bit down a smile. „Yeah, of course.“

„Okay.“ A swallow. „Noya-San, I… wanted to tell you that if, if you wanted…“ A heavy breath. „If you wanted to, I could help you make this character come to life. Tonight.“

Oh…

It could have been the alcohol, the peony inked into his palm or Asahi’s voice cracking in his ear, but whatever it was, it made Noya feel invincible. He squeezed Asahi’s hand and turned his head, saw his flushed face and the vulnerability lurking just behind his eyes.

„No, I don’t want to,“ he replied. Asahi’s eyes shuttered, hand twitching back, but Noya held it fast, held his confused gaze. „I actually just want you.“

Asahi stared down at him. „Oh,“ he said, „Are, are you s-“

In response, Noya relocated himself on Asahi’s plump thighs and shoved his tongue into his mouth. There was some flinching, some sputtering, but then there was just the soft stroke of Asahi’s tongue against his own, his quiet gasps against his lips, his hands clutching at his waist. A shudder trembled through Noya from somewhere deep within his chest. This, this was exactly it, what he wanted and needed and lacked and claimed. This man, right here, dragging his fingers over Noya’s shirt, pressing himself closer, reaching out. Noya leant down, blood pounding in his veins, thickening in his cock, pushed more of his tongue into Asahi, forced himself further on him, but Asahi just leant up, into the kiss, into Noya. He ground his hips forward, felt Asahi’s dick stiff against his own, his moan against his teeth.

They parted, flushed and hot and hard. Noya pressed a shivering giggle into Asahi’s cheek, felt him smile against his throat. They looked at each other. Fucking everything about Asahi just reeled him in, he was so inviting, so soft and warm, so ready. Noya was already tipping forward again, right into that heat, but Asahi pushed him off of his lap.

Noya had half a mind to just cling to him like a monkey. Pouting a little, he slid off of Asahi’s legs, but kept his hands wound around his shoulders. Asahi smiled at him, cheeks and mouth so ruddy. Then he slipped his hand into Noya’s and led him out of the garden, into the ryokan, along a string of doors until he stopped in front of one of them. The key jangled in his hand as Asahi unlocked the door.

He turned to Noya, eyes brilliant, smile just the tiniest bit dirty. „Okay?“ he breathed.

Noya answered by shoving him through the door and kicking it shut behind them.

The morning light was dim. It struggled through the heavy fabric of the curtains, only able to throw a thick strip of sunlight onto the bed where they parted. Noya watched the dust dance in and out of existence through the shaft of light. His eyes wandered down to the sheets tangled around his legs, tracked the progression of the streak over the bed, halted where it fell over Asahi’s thighs. For a brief moment, he felt that same flesh under his lips, the sensation of sinking his teeth right into it, felt Asahi’s leg flinch and heard his voice shriek, then _groan_ , so loudly that he had to stifle himself with a hand over his mouth.

Noya tracked the curve of Asahi’s thighs upward, over the swell of his butt to the small of his back, where he was blessedly uncovered. Asahi had probably the sexiest back of anybody on this planet, hands down. Muscled, broad, the ridge of his spine just this perfect valley for Noya to dip his tongue into. Granted, Noya might have been a little biased, considering how he had enjoyed watching that back sweat, working hard for Asahi to screw himself back onto Noya’s cock.

Noya inched a little closer. There was a pleasant ache in his muscles, evidence of their voraciousness. His eyes travelled up to the hickeys he’d nipped and sucked into Asahi’s throat. There were a _lot_. Maybe he could ask Kiyoko for some make-up before they left? Although it was a phenomenal look on Asahi, of course. Maybe Noya’d get him to leave without glancing into the mirror. He’d be free to enjoy this possession a little while longer. And anyway, the real pearl of beauty was the love bite on Asahi’s nape, bestowed on him when Saeko had started her furious taiko performance in the garden and Asahi couldn’t stop giggling when Noya had fucked him to the same rhythm. In the end, the drumming had turned out to be a double blessing, since it had been loud enough to drown out Asahi’s scream when Noya had bit his neck and all the subsequent ones, too. 

Noya stared at the purple mark. God, he wanted more of that. He _needed_ more of that, all over Asahi, hidden behind layers of clothes so only Noya knew how to find them, what patch of Asahi’s skin to press to make him squirm.

They were separated only by a few centimeters. Noya reached out, brushed a finger over the bite mark. It was just as warm as the surrounding skin, but Noya felt that it should be hotter, carry the heat of their time together within itself and maybe keep it there, right beneath Asahi’s skin.

Noya lifted his hand, brushed Asahi’s hair from the pillow up towards his head, so he wouldn’t accidentally pull on it as he laid down. He dipped the tip of his nose into his hair, just enough to inhale its scent. Something a little sweet, floral, the chill of his cologne, a bit of sweat, some… cinnamon. Noya was helpless against the smile overtaking his lips, so he just let it happen, smiled into Asahi’s curls and trailed his fingers over his shoulder. He let his mouth wander like his hand. Didn’t kiss, just touched, grazed it over the mark, up to the beginning of Asahi’s collarbone. Of course, he had to grab a handful of Asahi’s ass once he reached it, gently, but firmly. The things that ass made him want to do. Innumerable, inscrutable. Noya barely resisted the urge to push his fingers further, between the cheeks and over Asahi’s hole. He congratulated himself on his willpower, only to witness Asahi spread his thighs a little further.

Noya glanced up, watched Asahi turn his head. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but still caught the sparse light in the room in shades of chestnut. A smile curled on his lips as he slid his leg a little further up the sheets. His head turned further, as did his shoulder, allowed him to raise his chin and catch Noya in a kiss. He sighed, opened his lips instantly for Asahi’s tongue. He was so warm, his mouth, his skin, his breath. Noya molded himself against his back, against the curves and ridges of his muscles. Noya’s cock was already full, nudging against his lower back. Asahi leant into it and moaned when he slipped from Noya’s mouth.

„Hey,“ Asahi whispered, beaming sleepily at Noya with his entire being.

„Hey,“ Noya replied, managed not to choke somehow. He was in so deep, it wasn’t even funny anymore.

His fingers ran down, just, just to see, just to feel. And feel they did, Asahi’s hole still a little hot and so very soft under them. Pliable, supple, stretching under Noya’s fingertips. No resistance at all when he pushed it in just the tiniest bit, but even that was enough to make Asahi push back into it, make his entire body tremble.

Fucking shit, did _anybody_ on this earth deserve this? Noya pressed a hot kiss on Asahi’s jaw. „I still can’t believe you can fucking cum like that, it’s so fucking hot,“ he murmured.

„Well, you, you… you make it pretty easy,“ Asahi breathed.

Noya grinned against Asahi’s stubble. „I hope you know you’re feeding right into my overgrown ego when you keep telling me how much I make you orgasm.“

„In that case… I faked everything.“

Noya laughed right into his shoulder, felt the vibrations of Asahi’s own giggle on his lips. He was busy gnawing at that delicious shoulder joint in retaliation when Asahi reached over. The wheels of the drawer squeaked, and then Asahi tapped two wrappers against his side. Words entirely inappropriate for having known Asahi for maybe 24 hours scrambled on Noya’s tongue. He forced them down his throat, promising to give this ryokan a five star Google review for its complimentary condom supply.

Noya grabbed the two items, fumbled out the condom and rolled it over his cock. Honestly, he was kind of over those little lube packets. The shit went everywhere but on your fingers, and there was just enough to spread it over his dick. As soon as he had coated himself, Asahi groped for his prick, pressed the tip against his cleft.

Oh fucking God. „You, you sure?“ Noya asked, even as he wiggled down the bed and repositioned his hand from Asahi’s ass to his hip.

„Yeah, yeah, just, just…“ And then he pushed down, nudged Noya’s tip inside and spread his leg, pulled it up with one hand holding the back of his knee as he bowed his back like a fucking ribbon, just to be closer, to gasp against Noya’s mouth and dart the tip of of his tongue against Noya’s.

„Motherfucking God, how are you so fucking perfect,“ Noya cursed as he slid in deeper, „Better than anything I could have fucking conceived of, fuck, oh fuck!“

Asahi giggled breathlessly, because for some reason he didn’t believe Noya. No matter how many times he’d gasped at him how much he wanted to kiss and stroke and fuck _Asahi_ , he’d known by his lopsided smile and timid eyes that it didn’t really get through to him. Asahi fully expected to remain a stand-in, acting out the part of a fantasy. But Noya would make him see, would make him feel what he was feeling, would prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was everything that Noya could have wished for.

And what better way to achieve that than by fucking Asahi completely senseless?

Fully committed to his plan, Noya slung his arm around Asahi’s thigh, grabbed it hard before dragging Asahi’s hips down onto his cock as he bottomed out. God, it was so soft und tight, absolutely made for Noya’s prick. He felt Asahi shudder all the way down to the root, his muscle clenching and pulling around the hilt. They fumbled their mouths together in a sloppy kiss, stroking tongues and nipping teeth until Noya rolled his whole body up again, ground his hips into Asahi’s ass, stuffed his dick into his hole and shoved his tongue into his mouth.

Asahi’s reaction was pure beauty, his jerking and shivering body, his desperate moans against Noya’s upper lip, his hand tugging his thigh up even further, spreading himself completely open. It would be so easy, so fucking easy to push Asahi onto his back, pin his knees down onto the mattress and let this conclude in another bout of furious fucking. But that wasn’t what Noya wanted for them now. He wanted it deep and warm, to show Asahi that he was that, too, gentle and caring, loving. That he wanted that with Asahi, take care of him, be with him, every stupid day if he could.

So Noya didn’t turn them over, but started to screw Asahi deep, pulling out until the head was nestled inside and then going all the way in, spooning him from behind, sculpting himself against Asahi where he could, sleep-damp skin pressed against each other, heating them up. Asahi melted right into him. His breath left him in quiet pants, puffed out of his mouth and into Noya’s. His eyes peered at him heavy-lidded as he rolled his hips into Noya’s thrusts. Noya kept going, kept fucking him boneless and pliant, kept kissing his swollen lips. They were the only other body part still coherent enough to react, to kiss Noya back. Messy, unrestrained, like Asahi couldn’t keep himself from kissing Noya, like he craved that connection just as much as Noya did.

The sounds of them filled the void of the room. Their huffing breath and moans, their skin shifting over the sheets, along each other, the crinkle of the latex. Noya released Asahi’s thigh and touched them there, with two finger pads. Right where they were joined, feeling them both there, the part where Asahi’s stretched entrance took him inside, where they slid into each other, touching. Bound, for a short moment. Noya would make it count, and then he would do it again and again, not letting go until Asahi couldn’t let go again, either.

Asahi’s anus convulsed and clenched underneath his fingers, slippery with lube. Noya stroked it, because it was there, because he could. Asahi’s shiver was a sweet reward, made him want to please Asahi even more. So he pushed in harder, faster, angled his thrusts a little towards Asahi’s front. He could _see_ the orgasm coming on Asahi’s face, the flush deepening in his cheeks and spreading over his neck, his brows drawn together in pleasure. His mouth still fluttered against Noya’s in an approximation of a kiss, but was otherwise just huffing out desperate gasps.

Tiny, continuous sounds brimming with need, coasting over Noya’s lips. A whispered „ _Noya_ “, hardly more than a breath, and another „ _Noya_ “. His voice sounded so tender it almost brought Noya to the brink of tears.

He pressed his hand over Asahi’s where it was clawed into the back of his knee. His touch loosened the grip, made Asahi twine his fingers around Noya’s as tight as he could. Noya looked at him, didn’t even have to say it, Asahi’s eyes hooked on his, and Noya saw it closing in on him, heard it on his hitching breath, so he pushed a little harder, pressed his face a little closer, mouths grazing, nostrils touching, eyes open so that Asahi might see it, clear as day in Noya’s eyes, and Asahi looked back and Noya wished it, to those weird Gods or coincidence or the man before him, _please fall in love with me_ , and Asahi sobbed and came, hips jerking, but Noya just followed, slowed his thrusts, drew it out, made him feel it everywhere, from his contracting hole to his quivering fingertips, sparking it through him, watching Asahi’s face rapt in pleasure and baring himself open for Asahi to _see_ , too.

Breath still heaving, ass still pulling, Asahi went right back to kissing Noya. Sucking on his lips, his tongue, anything he could reach, body still twitching as Noya fucked him ever so slowly. When Asahi stopped groaning, Noya shoved in deep and stayed there. Random spasms made Asahi tighten and loosen around his cock, and Noya couldn’t help but shift inside of him with every tug. Noya opened his eyes, cursing himself in the same moment for closing them, because how was he going to show Asahi how fucking whipped he was for him when he couldn’t see it? But Asahi was still watching him, maybe hadn’t even stopped.

A smile curled on his face just as Noya whispered, „Hey.“

Asahi chuckled, eyes illuminating the room more than the shaft of light ever could. 

„Hey,“ he croaked.

Noya kissed his lips one more time, before levering himself up on his arm only for it to buckle under him. He cursed while Asahi, predictable and evil as he was, giggled. 

„Asshole,“ Noya muttered, shook his arm to get rid of those pins and needles, yuck.

Asahi just bit his lip, smiled a little cheekily at him. It was cute enough to make Noya forgive him instantly, but not enough to keep him from nipping at Asahi’s jaw. „You’re lucky you have these super hot anal orgasms to make up for how awful you are,“ he declared.

„Oh,“ Asahi mumbled. Of course, _then_ he blushed. „I think you’re the only one who thinks those make up for my personal shortcomings.“

Noya stared at him aghast. „Are you kidding me? That stuff is the bomb! You should get, like, free donuts every day for having them!“

Asahi snorted as Noya attempted to push himself up again. This time, he succeeded. Leaning on his elbow, he had the perfect view of Asahi’s chest and those abs that Noya was willing to commit a murder or two for. His eyes took in the sight of Asahi’s dick. God, it looked delicious sprawled on Asahi’s thigh, a little stretched, a little thick, but otherwise flaccid. His cock had streamed cum all over Asahi’s thigh, dripped it onto the sheets, milky-white and watery. Not everybody could ejaculate during an anal orgasm, so this was undoubtedly a gift from the Gods.

Noya dipped his fingers in Asahi’s cum, swiped them through it before spreading it over the head. It was soft, a little squishy under his fingertips, but already firming.

He turned his head again, glanced at Asahi. There was no need to ask, really. But it was nice to make sure sometimes, even if Asahi’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip and the way he nudged his hips into Noya’s hand were pretty clear signs. So Noya asked, „Okay?“

Asahi smiled and nodded, lifted his head for another kiss. Seeing that, every choice in the matter was yanked out of Noya’s hands, he had to lean down, had to skim his lips over Asahi’s and pry them open with his tongue. He used the opportunity to snake his underarm under Asahi’s head, cradled it, stroked his fingers over his face as he stroked his cock to hardness, circled the tip with a cum-coated finger until he felt pre-cum leaking out of the slit.

In no time at all, he had Asahi panting for it again, prick hard and hot and weeping in his fist. He started thrusting, but he was so fucking _close_ already, cock so stiff and needy inside Asahi’s ass. That couldn’t be it, he needed Asahi to cum again, wanted to give it to him pounding, overwhelming, breathtaking, but, but he, he was just, so-

Noya groaned, whined almost, jerked Asahi’s cock furiously, fingers flying over his fat dick, he just needed to make Asahi feel so good, make him arch his back and muffle his moans, yeah, just like that, make him look at Noya, adoring, make his hips twitch and his mouth gasp out his name. Asahi did, just like that, and ground his hips and took Noya deep, sucked Noya’s tongue into his mouth and looked at him, didn’t stop looking at him, and whispered Noya’s name right against the tip of his tongue, and it hit him in surges, driving through him with his thrusts, gushed out of him with spunk and groans and twitching hands, Asahi’s cum spurting through his fingers, eating it all up, Asahi’s moans and shivers and the look in his eyes.

Noya trembled. He continued to press inside, slowly, felt Asahi’s hole contract randomly around his dick, milked them both completely dry. His tongue was still inside Asahi’s mouth, stroking him in time with his cock. He felt so warm, pressed against Asahi’s flushed skin, his breath right there with his own, mingling. His lips slid from Asahi’s, over his cheeks and earlobe, came to rest in his hair. He kissed it. The scent was just as strong, the notes of floral and cinnamon just as heart-squeezing.

With a grunt, he pulled his softening dick out of Asahi. The action was accompanied by a happy sigh from Asahi. It dragged a smile out of Noya, although he felt a little miffed at himself. While that had been nice and all, it hadn’t exactly been what he’d _wanted_. Just a little bit of fucking and a hand job, when he’d wanted to screw every drop of cum out of Asahi. Boo.

He didn’t get much of a chance to lament his lacking stamina, though, as Asahi turned around, wrapped his arms around Noya and rolled on top of him. He covered Noya from head to toe, just sprawled on him like an incredibly sexy blanket. His face pressed against Noya’s neck, and he could feel Asahi’s smile curl against his skin. He opened his mouth to express how stupidly adorable Asahi was, but inhaled some errant hairs and coughed them out violently. 

Asahi gathered those unruly strands and mumbled, „Sorry.“ His mouth widening into a grin somehow contradicted that apology.

Lucky for him, Noya decided to forgive his impudence, even went so far as to kiss his grinning lips. But Asahi’s hair was a total cockblock, kept getting in the way and tickling him until he blew it away from Asahi’s face. He reclaimed Asahi’s mouth for some much deserved kisses and listened to his quiet giggling.

Since Asahi was apparently part electric blanket, Noya started to sweat pretty soon, but who gave a fuck, Asahi obviously didn’t, judging by how he didn’t stop clinging to him. After a while, his dick _did_ get a tad uncomfortable in the wrinkling condom. So Noya scraped his teeth one last time over Asahi’s upper lip before wiggling himself free. Asahi sighed again before turning to stretch for the tissues. 

Noya peeled the condom off of his cock and tossed it on the sizable pile of used rubbers in the trash can. Some crumpled tissues fluttered in after, and Noya turned to throw himself at Asahi, but only met steely resistance when he tried to topple him on the bed.

With a constrained smile, Asahi said, „It’s probably late. I should go and… get ready to check out.“

„Yeah, yeah, sure,“ Noya agreed, crawling his way into Asahi’s lap, „You _could_ do that. Or you could wait for me, and we check out together, and you come with me and pluck some strawberries.“

Asahi opened his mouth. „Strawberries,“ he repeated.

Noya beamed at him. „Yeah! Ryuu and Kiyoko, and I think Saeko? Are going to this plantation. It’s apparently close to the ryokan, and Kiyoko thought it looked super charming. I mean, I guess that’s still happening so long as Ryuu is not puking his guts out.“

Asahi hummed in understanding.

„I’m coming, because strawberries, obviously. I got like a fucking baby bathtub to fill up in my trunk and plan to live on nothing but strawberries for the next two weeks.“

Asahi laughed, the streak of light catching his eyes and making them gleam in that chestnut shade again. „Sounds delightful,“ he commented.

Noya grinned. „So you’re coming, right?“

Asahi’s face faltered a little, which was just not happening. „Uh, I don’t know,“ Asahi stammered, „I mean, you’ve planned this some time ago, and… I wouldn’t want to intrude on your outing.“

„You’re not intruding, you’re Kiyoko’s guest, and I’m sure she’d love it if you came. Saeko and Ryuu are gonna flip their shit, like, they’re gonna make fun of me so much for hooking up with you.“

Asahi blushed instantly, in a fun way, but also not, because Noya could already see apprehension clouding his eyes. Quickly, he promised, „If they say anything to you, I’ll punch them in the face.“

Asahi snorted. „No, that’s not necessary, but thanks for the offer.“

There was that unsure twist to Asahi’s mouth, so Noya took his hand and said, „I kind of want to spend more time with you.“

Asahi blushed even harder, sputtered, „I, yeah, I mean, me too, I want to spend more time. With you.“

„So you’re gonna go prance through strawberry fields with me later?“

Asahi huffed a laugh, gave him what scientists everywhere would probably agree was a fond look. „Okay, yeah, I… Let’s do that.“

When the sun had already set again, Noya kneeled at the low table in his apartment, paper and pencils scattered over the top. He clanked the graphite tip against his empty ramen bowl while examining his latest piece. His eyes flitted from the picture he had snapped only hours before and which served as his reference to the drawing before him. It was… pretty good. Perfect, almost. The tilt of the mouth, the slight flush in the cheeks. It paired wonderfully with the woven mess of strawberry shoots and petals resting on his head in a wreath, the occasional underripe berry and a few already blooming with a shy redness. Pleased with himself, Noya snapped a photo of his drawing. He sent it to Asahi, pretended to mess around a little bit on Instagram while waiting for Asahi’s response. It arrived as one single, pulsating heart emoji.

Smiling, _blushing_ even, like he hadn’t done in about five years, Noya sent Asahi a gif of a cartoon bunny firing kisses at a cat and asked him out for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved Pygmalion's story. I guess it's the hopeless pining that attracts me, although I never really liked the fact that the statue didn't get much of a choice in it. In this story, I didn't want Asahi to be just Noya's creation, I felt he deserved more than that. So I guess this is my take on it? In... a way? 
> 
> Well, now I know that I am incapable of keeping stuff short. And smut free. But yay, another prompt done, only one more to go! I was riding the struggle bus with this one a bit, which bummed me out, because it was one of the ideas I was looking forward to writing the most. I hope you enjoyed, anyway, thank you for reading! :)


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